


Improvise, Adapt, Overcome

by Eridani_Dreams



Category: Deus Ex (Video Games), Deus Ex: Human Revolution, Deus Ex: Mankind Divided
Genre: Awkward Flirting, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Kiss Her You Dope!, Romance, She's Still A Better Shot Than He Is
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-12-27 04:15:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18296642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eridani_Dreams/pseuds/Eridani_Dreams
Summary: Aria Argento has finally succeeded in bringing down the walls of Adam Jensen's heart. But can the rest of TF29 cope with a happy Adam?





	Improvise, Adapt, Overcome

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GenesisArclite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GenesisArclite/gifts).



> For the Church of the Machine God. You know who you are, and you know what you did!

Adam sent off his after-action report with a final keystroke, then leaned back in his chair and rubbed the back of his neck with a sigh. He hoped that would keep MacReady for a few hours, though it wasn’t likely. Forms and reports were like gangsters; they _proliferated_. He probably had about five minutes before MacReady opened the report and started firing off sarcastic little text messages requesting ‘clarification,’ and he really wanted to be out of shouting distance before then.

He took a quick look over his active caseload, but every single investigation was waiting on electronic intelligence, feedback from the analysts or material analysis from the tech boffins. Adam sighed again. Maybe he could lean on Chang to speed things up. Then he reconsidered; it had been _almost an entire week_ since the last password reset, and he didn’t want to be the one to trigger the next. (It had nothing to do with the office betting pool over ‘Who, how, and when’ Chang would reset all the passwords, or that MacReady had won the last three with ‘Jensen, reminded Chang we have enemies, one week,’ and had signed up for a fourth.) He was running out of options; even being shot at was better than having Mac nag him over reports.

Adam grinned and shoved himself away from his desk. Not being shot _at_ , but doing some shooting would be a good way to relax. No one was usually on the range at this hour, and so no one would complain about his sudden desire to keep up on his combat readiness.  
He was closing the door on his locker when he heard the muffled sound of weapon fire from the range proper. He paused for a moment, then mentally shrugged. Anyone else down here at this time of night was probably here for the same reason he was, and he could generally cope in that atmosphere of mutual world-avoidance. It was only a few moments before the muffled thunder of gunfire ceased, the door indicator blinked from red to green to indicate ‘range clear’, and Adam stepped through.

At the far end of the range, Aria looked up from reloading a sniper rifle that was bigger than she was. “Oh, hey, Adam. Wasn’t expecting anyone down here this late.” She offered him a cheerful smile; she was doing that more now that she’d been cleared for field duty.

Adam responded with a small smile of his own. Somehow, she just had that effect on him. “Just avoiding more paperwork.”

Aria chuckled as her skilled hands broke down the sniper rifle. “You know, Adam, you are kind of bad about getting it in on time.” She pursed her lips for a moment, rubbing at a smudge on the rifle barrel.

Adam snorted. “I do enough of it. Thought the task force was supposed to be about cutting through the red tape.” Actually, he’d stolen that argument from an email he’d found on Miller’s computer before the London op. Unfortunately, it hadn’t made much headway with either of his bosses.

Aria laughed. “Well, if that’s true, then why are we making so much more of it?” She set the rifle aside and stretched, and Adam had a hard time not looking at her. Like him, she’d left the bulky body armor in the locker room, and the light turtleneck and pants that were the standard under-layer left very little to the imagination. He’d only seen her like this a few times, all lithe and lean, and it always left him tongue-tied and devoutly glad that he was the only one in the office with a CASIE.

She looked at him expectantly, and he somehow dragged his thoughts into some semblance of order. “Um. Because no plan survives first contact with the enemy?”

Aria nodded wryly. “Well, bureaucrats _are_ the field agent’s natural enemy,” she replied, as she moved to the next lane, settled her ear protectors, and picked up the pistol waiting there. “Range is hot,” she announced. Adam moved to an open lane and leaned casually on the divider, content to watch. Aria handled the pistol with an ease that belied the long, hard hours of training and rehabilitation he knew she’d endured. That was surely the reason he was letting himself watch her now, while her attention was down-range; it had nothing to do with missing her quiet greetings every time he came in, or the way she always had a smile for him, even when she was frustrated at being stuck at the quartermaster’s desk. But she was kind and encouraging to everyone, and he would be a fool to think he meant anything special to her.

(He was a fool.)

Belatedly, he realized that she’d finished off the magazine, had said something to him, and was waiting for some sort of response. “Sorry,” he muttered, “was just…woolgathering. What did you say?”

Aria raised an eyebrow. “Were you planning on getting some practice in? I mean, watching me can’t be all _that_ interesting…”

Adam shrugged and temporized, “Wasn’t expecting anyone else to be down here. Didn’t want to interrupt.”

“You’re not interrupting me, Adam,” Aria said. “Actually, I was getting a little bored just plinking at targets.” A mischievous smile crossed her face. “How about a friendly little contest, just to liven things up?”

Adam raised one eyebrow. “‘Friendly little contest,’ hmm?” Aria’s smile was infectious, and he found himself returning it. “What did you have in mind?”

Her smile broadened into a grin. “We pick three weapons; each of us fires off a full mag, and the winner for each weapon is decided on points. Best two out of three wins. If you win, I get you caught up on paperwork.”

Adam had to chuckle. “And if you win?”

Aria’s grin became a full-fledged smirk. “ _When_ I win, you’ll find out.”

They settled on pistols, combat rifles, and battle rifles. Adam won the toss to go first, and as he took his place at the firing line, he had to admit that this was more interesting than standard target practice. He could feel Aria’s eyes on him, and the thought sent a distracting little tingle up his spine. _Focus_ , he told himself sternly, as he settled into a firing stance…sighted in on the target…and found his concentration broken by a soft cough from behind him. He sighed, lowered his pistol, and half-turned to look at Aria, who looked back out of innocent brown eyes. He couldn’t prevent the corner of his mouth from quirking in a smile. “Oh, is _that_ how we’re gonna play this?”

Aria leaned against the divider and looked up at him through her eyelashes. “All’s fair in love and war.” Something inside Adam tightened at that look, though he knew there was no way she actually _meant_ anything by it. Hastily, he turned back to the firing line and tried to recover his focus. How was it that she could shake him worse than a whole squad of mercs?

The pistol didn’t feel right in his hand. He ejected the magazine, checked it, and replaced it, and still it felt obscurely wrong. It was probably just that he’d been favoring the Zap lately, and he hadn’t gotten as much range time as he should. It had nothing to do with her presence behind him. But as he brought his pistol up to fire, he knew he was lying to himself.

Adam managed a respectable score, but nowhere near his best. Aria gave him a sympathetic smile as she swapped places with him. “If you’re not feeling it, Adam, we don’t _have_ to keep going…” Her lips curved into a teasing smile. “Of course, you’ll have to do your own paperwork…”

He found himself returning the smile with one of his own. “Think I’ll take my chances,” he drawled, and leaned on the divider to watch her again. He could see some tension in her shoulders that hadn’t been there the first time, but that was only to be expected—even the friendliest of contests brought out her competitive nature. She gave him a brief, gleaming smile, then turned her attention back to the range and emptied her magazine with methodical precision, demolishing both her targets and his score. “Point to you,” Adam acknowledged. “You want first shot with combat rifles?”

Aria checked the pistol’s chamber, switched on the safety, and set it aside, then turned to him. “Sure. Pass it over?” Adam did the same for the combat rifle and handed it to her. Her flesh-and-blood hand brushed against his as he handed it over; a frisson ran up his spine at the unexpected touch. He passed over a loaded mag, feeling unaccountably awkward. It seemed that the awkward was catching; Aria bobbled the mag, and as it slipped out of her hand, they both stooped to catch it. His hand closed on it—and hers.

They straightened up slowly, Adam’s hand curled around Aria’s, and although her pulse beat wildly beneath his fingers, she didn’t seem inclined to pull away. They stood there, staring at each other for a long moment, until the sound of the targeting system resetting reminded them of their surroundings. On sheer impulse, Adam brought his free hand up to gently fold her fingers over the magazine. “Got it?”

A slow flush spread across Aria’s cheeks as she tugged her hand from his. “Um. Yeah. Thanks.” She gave him a sidelong look, then bit her lip and turned back to the range, slapping the magazine into the rifle a little more firmly than necessary.

Adam stared down at his hand, feeling the phantom echoes of her touch chase themselves into nothingness. Aria hadn’t flinched, hadn’t pulled away from his grasp. He’d known she wasn’t afraid of him, but there was not-fear, and then there was—if he didn’t know better, he’d say she’d welcomed his touch. He looked back up at her just in time to see her quickly turn her head away, with the embarrassed speed of someone who had gotten caught looking where they shouldn’t.

…maybe he was a fool after all, just not for the reason he’d originally thought. If he was honest with himself, he hadn’t wanted to believe that she—that _anyone_ —would be interested in him. Adam had thought that the betrayals of his past had wounded him too deeply, that he’d never be able to let someone that close again. That he’d never _want_ to. Loneliness was just another price he had to pay, for the pain he’d suffered, for all the others’ sins he’d had to swallow, and for the sake of the mission that had fallen to him.

If he was honest with himself, it was a price he was tired of paying. He’d tried to armor himself against the slings and arrows of a world that hated what he’d become, fortified himself against those who would exploit him for their own ends. But in doing so, he’d neglected to guard the gates against simple human kindness. Aria had slipped inside, with her quiet smiles and genuine care, and all she offered was her heart—if he had the courage to accept it.

Belatedly, Adam realized he hadn’t heard the sound of gunfire, but he was feeling the little prickle on the back of his neck that meant someone was watching him. He looked up again, this time managing to catch her looking. “Something wrong?” he asked, in a voice that was only slightly rougher than usual.

Aria blushed again. “I was going to ask you that—you’ve been awful quiet.” She tried to lift her gaze to his, but as usual it skittered off the barrier of his shades. (Which was usually the way he preferred to operate, but the barrier that most found opaque, she’d made irrelevant.) Also as usual, it didn’t seem to faze her.

“Just…thinking,” Adam said, honestly, and managed a smile for her. A lock of hair had come out of her precise updo, and his fingers itched to brush it back behind her ear. “I think you’re right, though, I’m not in a mood to shoot after all,” he added, and his smile turned wry. “Think it’s probably better for my ego if I just concede right now.”

Aria shifted uncertainly. “Adam, if you need some peace and quiet to think, I can go—”

“No!” The word came out with unwonted intensity—the _last_ thing he wanted to do was to drive her away. His shades retracted with a faint _snick_ , and he met her startled gaze with his own. “No,” he repeated, more gruffly. “You don’t need to leave. I, uh,” he looked down, feeling the beginning of a flush on his own cheeks, “I like your company.”

Aria’s lips curved in a soundless “O”, then she turned away, and Adam heard the click of a magazine being ejected, the fainter click of the safety, and the scuff of metal on wood. She turned back, hands empty, and leaned against the divider to face him. “Conceding the match, huh?” She was close enough for him to feel the warmth of her body, to say nothing of the warmth of the smile she turned to him.

Adam brought his eyes back to hers. It was an effort not to let his gaze cling to her trim, athletic curves, but somehow he managed it. “You trounced me pretty solidly with the pistol,” he pointed out. “Doesn’t take a crystal ball to see the future after that.” He let out a melodramatic sigh, just for the pleasure of seeing her face crinkle in a smile. “So much for the paperwork.”

Aria laughed, softly. “You just slack on it because it pisses Mac off.”

“Yeah, pretty much,” he admitted. He watched, amused, as her eyes kept straying up to look at his, only to be followed by a quick look away, like she really didn’t want to be caught staring. He raised an eyebrow on the third or fourth repetition. “What, is there something on my face?”

That endearing little blush crossed her face again. “No—sorry, Adam, your eyes, I just—I don’t think I’ve ever seen you take the shades down before. They, uh, they’re really _intense_.” She brushed the stray lock of hair back out of her face. “I, um, I like them. Not—not that you need my approval, obviously…”

“Thanks,” Adam said, touched both by her sincerity and her obvious wish not to overstep. He wasn’t usually comfortable accepting compliments about his augs, but somehow, with Aria, it was different. “So…when am I going to find out?”

Aria looked confused. “What?”

Adam raised his eyebrow again. “The contest. You said when you won, I’d find out what the forfeit was.”

“Oh, right…” Aria chewed on her lip. “Well, you know, you don’t _have_ to…” The fingers of her left hand drew little circles on the wood between them in a motion that practically shouted nerves. Her hand flattened convulsively against the divider when she realized that he’d noticed. Adam was filled with an amused sort of sympathy—she’d gone to all this trouble to get his attention, and now that she had it, it seemed she wasn’t sure what to do about it.

Neither was he, to be honest. (That wasn’t entirely true. He could pull up the CASIE, map and track her heartbeat and breathing and pupils down to the faintest of tells, but he flinched from the idea. What was growing between them was far too real, and she deserved the best of _him_ , not a programmatically-aided artifice.) “Well,” he said, lightly, “I know it’s not going to be _your_ paperwork…so I gotta admit, I can’t think of anything you could ask that I wouldn’t be okay with.”

Aria gave him a sharp look, like she wasn’t entirely sure he was serious. Which…was understandable; it was hard (more nearly impossible) for him to trust, and he’d never made an attempt to hide it. But he’d realized, even as the words had tumbled out of his mouth, that he really _did_ trust her. He met her eyes, hoping that she’d see the sincerity in his gaze. (He tried not to let his gaze linger too long on the delicacy of her hand, the shy curve of her lips, but it was hard—now that he’d let himself see her as more than just a friendly colleague, he couldn’t _unsee_ it.)

Whatever Aria saw in his eyes, it seemed to be enough. “Would you, um…” She took a deep breath. “WouldyoucomewithmetotheChristmasparty?” Her cheeks were flaming red by the end of the sentence. Her eyes fell away from his; it had clearly taken a great deal of courage for her to ask the question, however awkwardly she’d blurted it out.

For his part, Adam felt his jaw drop a little in utter surprise at a question he’d never anticipated. “Ahhhh…” he said, then paused. With no small amount of daring, he slid two fingers beneath her chin and tilted her head back toward him. Her eyes were huge and dark and almost frightened, and he couldn’t stop himself from brushing the backs of his fingers against her jaw in a gentle reassurance. Carefully, he asked, “Aria…are you asking me on a _date_?”

“Um…yes?” Aria’s voice was almost a squeak. It was a huge departure from her usual confidence, and the contrast made Adam want to smile. He tried to suppress it, lest it be misconstrued, but he wasn’t entirely successful. The nervousness in her eyes turned to fire and her flesh-and-blood hand smacked him in the chest. “It’s not funny, Adam!”

Adam brought his hand up to cover hers where it had landed on his chest. “I’m not laughing at you,” he assured her. “I just…wasn’t expecting any of this.” He glanced down at their hands, then back up at her face. He needed to explain, needed her to _understand_. “Aria—it’s—I—” he stumbled over the words. “It’s just…been awhile…since anyone wanted to—” Adam took a deep breath. “Wanted… _me_. And I—I don’t—”

He shuddered to a halt when Aria brought a finger up to his lips. “Adam,” she said, a smile in her voice and in her eyes, “shut up and kiss me.”

Adam felt a slow smile spread across his face. “Yes, ma’am,” he murmured huskily. He brushed his lips lightly, teasingly against hers, then swallowed the soft, frustrated little sound she made before it could become a full-blown protest. Her synthetic hand wrapped around the back of his neck to pull him closer, her teeth scraping gently against his beard in a demand for _more_. He nipped at her bottom lip in return, soothing any sting with a quickly darting tongue. He breathed her in, all roses and gun oil and the faint sharpness of propellant, felt the hammering of his heart against their entangled hands. His fingers traced their way up the line of her jaw, then ventured higher to tug at the pins holding her hair in place; he wanted to feel it soft and silken against his hands.

Aria made a softer, more satisfied noise against him as he began a more leisurely exploration of her mouth, so hot and eager against his. Her hand against his chest clenched in the fabric of his sweater to drag him closer, and it was Adam’s turn to growl satisfaction against her lips, to savor the way the sound made her melt against him. Her other hand slid down his back to try to pull him _even closer_ , and the electric feeling it sent through him was unfortunately eclipsed by a flare of pain. He’d forgotten about the counter between them; evidently, so had she, and he couldn’t quite suppress a yelp as the wood bit into his flesh.

“Oh, _fuck_.” It was the first time Adam had ever heard the usually soft-spoken Aria curse. “I’m sorry, Adam—you okay?” She drew back reluctantly, making no effort to disentangle her hand from his where it rested against his chest. She was breathing hard, hair in complete disarray, face flushed and eyes bright, and he thought he’d never seen her look more appealing, despite the concern on her face.

This time, he didn’t resist the urge to brush the stray lock of hair out of her face. “I’m fine,” he reassured her, as she turned her cheek into his touch like a cat. “You keep that up, though, and I _won’t_ be.” Sanity was starting to trickle back in, and while on one level he resented it, the cold, logical part of his mind suggested that whatever the two of them wanted to do together, it was probably best not to do it in the midst of Spy Central.

Aria took a deep breath, her eyes following his toward the observation window (thankfully closed). “Damn,” she said, with a little laugh. “I guess it’s a good thing the counter got in the way.”

“Not sure I’d go that far,” Adam said ruefully. He’d be sporting a nasty bruise without the Sentinel; Aria’s grip had been _assertive_. Her natural hand was still in his; he brought it up and brushed his lips, feather-light, against her knuckles, then gave it a gentle squeeze and, reluctantly, let her go. “So… when is this party you want me to go to?”

Aria seemed perplexed by the question. “The Christmas party—night after tomorrow? Wait—you weren’t going to go yourself?” She read the answer in his face. “Adam! You’re the reason we’re having a party and not a _wake_!”

Adam scrubbed his face with his hand. “That’s…why I didn’t want to go,” he muttered. “I don’t want any special attention; I just did what needed to be done.”

A look of understanding crossed Aria’s face. “Adam, no, it’s nothing like that. It’s just—” she hesitated a moment, then said, quietly, “Just… you’ve been in a really bad place, caught between Miller and MacReady. And you just proved that sending you off to do what you’re good at was the right decision. It’s not fair that you had to prove it, but…no one’s gonna question that you’re part of the team anymore.”

 _Part of the team_. It was a nice thought. In the long term, it was a thought he couldn’t afford if he was going to find out the truth about the Illuminati presence behind TF29. But…it would be nice to not have to spend Christmas alone.

“All right,” he said quietly. His lips quirked. “You have yourself a date, Agent Argento.”


End file.
